The Only One
by elthedane
Summary: Two times where Bryce was the only one Justin could depend on, even if he had ulterior motives. Warning: Non-con.
1. Chapter 1

**Justin: Hey**

 **Justin: Please answer**

 **Justin: I need help**

 **Justin: Can I stay at your place tonight?**

 **Justin: I'm serious its bad**

 **Justin: Jess! Pls answer!**

 **Justin: Answer me please**

 **Justin: Jess**

 **Read 11:25 pm**

Justin stared at his phone screen for what felt like an eternity. He swore under his breath and threw more clothes into his duffel bag. He swallowed the lump in his throat and tried to focus on packing as quickly as possible. Justin could hear Seth getting agitated in the living room. His cheekbone still throbbed where his mom's deadbeat boyfriend had hit him. Justin picked up his phone and tried calling Jess. If she read his texts, that meant she was awake. That meant she would probably answer him… right? The line rung and rung and eventually went to voicemail. Justin cursed and typed in Zach's number.

 **Justin: Hey Zach you awake?**

 **Justin: Come on dude**

 **Justin: Can I come over?**

 **Justin: Zach**

 **Justin: Answer pls**

 **Justin: Things are bad I need help**

 **Justin: please man**

 **Justin: I need you**

 **Read 11:37 pm**

"Fuck you!" Justin hissed under his breath, holding back tears. He sank down to the ground, holding his duffel bag against his chest. _Fuck this._ Justin heard his doorknob rattle and lept across the room to sit in front of the door, keeping it shut.

"Open the door, you little shit!" Seth grunted from the other side.

"Fuck off! You don't even live here." Justin shouted. Seth yelled out indiscernible swear words from the other side, his face pressed against the crack between the frame and the door itself. He heard his mother's voice drift towards him from farther away, calm and indifferent as ever.

"Go get a beer. I'll talk to him." She said. Justin's racing heart settled. Maybe this would be the day his mom finally prioritized him. Perhaps she would stand up for him and kick her asshole boyfriend out for good. Justin heard Seth say something he couldn't quite make out before his steps receded. Then the sound of Jerry Springer started blaring out of the television. Justin strained his ears for his mother's voice, that promised conversation, but it never came. She'd probably already taken her seat in front of the TV.

Justin had texted everyone, to no avail. He should've been used to that by now, but nevertheless it still hurt. No one liked needy Justin. People liked athletic, charismatic, arrogant Justin that appeared at parties or in the hallways. That Justin would smile big, crack jokes, and be the just the right amount of fucked up that he made the people around him feel better about themselves. When he was that guy, people could easily forget all the bad shit he'd done. "He's a cool dude", they'd say, "He's my best friend". But whenever Justin needed them, he got nothing but read receipts. The only exception was Bryce. Bryce, the asshole extraordinaire, was the only one that gave a shit. Really makes you think, huh?

So that's where Justin ended up, yet again. He'd lost count of how many times he'd been in this situation. When he was a kid, he'd show up to school with no lunch, unwashed hair, and bruises on his arms. Next thing he knew, Bryce's parents were taking him in, buying him new clothes and school supplies until things leveled out back home. When Justin was ten, he once made the mistake of asking Bryce if his family would adopt him. Bryce just gave him a sad, condescending smile. Justin had never asked anything like that again. This time, it was hardly any different. Barely anything had changed since he was six years old. Justin had to swallow down the lump of shame that had grown in his throat before knocking on Bryce's door, adjusting the duffel bag on his shoulder.

"Oh. Hey, Justin." Bryce said, leaning against the doorframe. He was eating one of those mini ice cream containers, licking the chocolate dessert off a spoon. "'Sup?"

Justin's jaw clenched and he adjusted the bag again, unable to look Bryce in the eyes. It was like he was asking just to force Justin to say it out loud. After all these years, Bryce knew exactly what was happening. Justin thought he probably just liked hearing him say it.

"My - uh... I can't stay at home tonight. Can I crash here?" Justin asked. He shivered in his letterman jacket and thin sweater and shifted from foot to foot.

"I dunno, man… My parents aren't home, and-"

"C'mon, Bryce. Don't fuck with me." Justin hated how his voice sounded, hoarse and desperate. He couldn't deal with Bryce's little mind games today.

"I guess you could, sure. If you asked nicely." Bryce shot him a shit-eating grin and Justin clenched his jaw so hard he thought his teeth might splinter. Bryce changed his body position so he blocked almost the entire doorway.

"Fuck… Seriously?" Justin shook his head and sighed before meeting Bryce's eyes. "Bryce. Can I please stay in the pool house tonight?" He said, enunciating.

"Yeah, man. Anytime." Bryce said, breaking into an arrogant smile and slinging an arm around Justin's thin shoulders. He closed the door with his foot.

"Nice shiner, bro." Bryce said.

"Fuck off." Replied Justin. Bryce laughed.

Bryce's pool house was practically Justin's second home now. Most of the stuff in here was his, or had been given to him by the Walkers. Justin's water bong was exactly where he'd left it last and he made a beeline for it as soon as the door shut behind him. He heard Bryce chuckle but decided he didn't give a shit. Justin rummaged around the drawers for some weed and his grinder.

"Not wasting any time, huh, buddy?" Asked Bryce, his arrogant smile glued in place. He flung himself on the couch where Justin usually slept. The Walkers' maid, Marita, had put a pile of folded blankets on the coffee table and Bryce pushed them off to prop his feet up in their place. Justin didn't feel like replying. All he wanted was to get high and forget about all the shit with his mom and Seth and Jessica and… fuck… Everything. Justin shrugged off his jacket and packed the weed into the bowl, lighting it almost immediately, inhaling and watching the smoke dance up the neck of the glassware. He took out the bowl and sucked the vapour in quickly, savouring the sudden tightness in his throat.

"I bet you'd slow down if you were the one paying for it." Bryce said. Justin froze, lighter in hand. He felt the familiar stab of humiliation in his chest.

"I think I have some cash in my bag…" Justin rummaged around the duffel, even though he knew full well there was no money in there.

"Don't worry about it, dude." Bryce said. To anyone else, this would have sounded like a nice thing to say, from one friend to another. But Justin knew the full implications of their arrangement. He quickly took another hit from the bong. Maybe Bryce would get bored tonight and just leave him alone. Maybe if he wasted enough time…

"Jesus. You look like shit, buddy." Bryce said. Justin made a noise between a laugh and a scoff. "I'm serious." Bryce Walker, ever the concerned friend.

"Just… Haven't slept in a while. I dunno. Why do you care?" Justin said with a shrug. He knew his eyes must be bloodshot beyond belief at this point. He reminded himself to get eye drops in the near future.

Justin opened the fridge. It was empty except for a few beers, just like back home. He tried to hide his disappointment.

"You hungry?" Bryce asked. "If I'd known you were coming, I would have gotten Marita to get you some stuff. Especially with how much you smoke, like c'mon, you can't have an empty fridge, amiright!" Bryce clapped Justin on the back, pushing him towards the main house. Justin didn't object. His stomach had been growling since yesterday. Nevertheless, he'd never liked the main house. In the pool house, the utter affluence of the Walkers could be covered up by spreading Justin's stuff around and removing some of the decor. But in the main house, Bryce's family's wealth was shoved in Justin's face. His whole apartment could fit in their kitchen, probably with room to spare. And still, the Walkers' kitchen would be worth more. Ever since he was a kid, Justin had felt like he shouldn't touch anything in here. He would probably decrease its value just by looking at it.

"I can ask Marita to make you something."

"Nah. Leftovers are fine." Justin said. Bryce raised his eyebrows at him and Justin realized that 'leftovers' probably weren't a thing in the Walker household. There it was again, that awkward feeling of being somewhere you really didn't belong; like how Jensen would probably feel at a party.

Bryce set a plate in front of him and Justin didn't even look at what was on it, just shoveled it in his mouth like it would disappear any second. Bryce watched with a mixture of amazement and amusement. He waited until Justin was done before cracking a laugh.

"Alright, then. Smoked up before coming, too?" Bryce asked. Justin had a nagging feeling that Bryce knew this wasn't the case, but was happy enough to blame everything on weed.

"Maybe a little." Justin lied with a small, dry laugh. Bryce wrapped an arm around his friend's neck, laughing.

"Dude, you're an animal!" Bryce said. Justin nodded and chuckled uncomfortably. Bryce's arm lingered near his neck and Justin's skin started crawling. _Get out_ , he imagined his body telling him. As usual, he ignored it.

"I could use a drink. You want a drink?" Bryce said, pointing a finger at Justin and inclining his head towards the living room.

"Uh, Bryce… I'm actually really tired. I've been trying to find a place to crash all night and last night, my mom-"

"Oh, come on! One drink! Don't be a pussy, Foley." Bryce said, leading Justin into the living room. Justin hesitated before sitting on the expensive-looking couch, checking his jeans for dirt. Bryce handed him a crystal drinking tumbler nearly filled with brown liquid. Justin turned it in his hands before catching Bryce's expectant eye and taking a sip. It was straight hard liquor, as expected. And Bryce had only an inch in his glass, again, as expected. Justin fought back the urge to run out the door and sleep on the street tonight. Perhaps if he broke into the school, crashed in the boys' locker room…

"Justin, you okay?" Bryce asked, taking the seat next to him on the couch. Justin exhaled slowly.

"Just… thinking 'bout shit."

"Well, you're here now, so forget about it." Bryce put a finger under Justin's drink, encouraging him to gulp down more. He groaned as it burned its way down his throat. Bryce let his hand fall down on Justin's thigh.

"Dude! What the fuck?" Justin said, springing sideways. Some of his drink spilled on the couch so he took another gulp to make sure that was less likely to happen again.

"What? Relax, man. It was an accident."

"I said I'm tired tonight, okay? So… I just wanna…" Justin struggled with his words, turning the fancy tumbler in his hands. He wanted to throw it, see it smash in expensive pieces on the expensive floor, wasting expensive whiskey.

"No problem." Bryce said with a shrug. Justin relaxed slightly. "Do you want to sleep in my bed tonight, then? It's way more comfortable than the pool house couch." Justin must have shot him a look, because Bryce quickly added, "I'd be sleeping in my parent's room, of course. I'm just saying that if you're really tired tonight and want to _sleep_ or whatever, you'd sleep better in my bed." Bryce shrugged like it was nothing, like Justin didn't know exactly what he was playing at. Justin balled and unballed his fists, his mind working quickly, trying to find the right way to say no. He knew this game. He'd fallen into this trap before.

"All my stuff's in the pool house." Was his pathetic excuse.

"It's not that far." Bryce waved his hand dismissively. "What do you say? Finish your drink and then I'll show you where to go." Justin downed the drink, feeling warmth spread across his chest. He didn't protest when Bryce led him up the stairs, though it was completely unnecessary. Justin had been upstairs many times before.

It was easy for Justin to pretend he was drunker than he was, the mixture of the weed and whiskey making him sway slowly on the steps. This way, he didn't have to think so much. Bryce was giddy like a schoolgirl, positively beaming at the prospect of getting some action tonight, even at his supposed best friend's expense. Justin could almost feel the excitement pulsing through Bryce's hand, which rested on the small of his back.

"'S gay, dude." Justin said, moving the hand. Bryce chuckled and put it right back where it had been. Shit. It was gonna be that kind of a night. Justin felt like he was going to be sick. Bryce pushed open the door to his lavish bedroom. Justin fought the jealousy that raced through him like wildfire. What he wouldn't give to have a room like this, in a house like this, with parents that weren't alcoholic assholes or criminals, and… Justin sat on Bryce's bed, looking at the trophies on his wall. He wondered if Bryce's dad had clapped him on the back after he won it, told him how proud Bryce had made him. His parents probably took him out to a fancy restaurant to celebrate afterwards. Fuck those trophies. Justin wanted to throw those, too.

Bryce sat down next to Justin, his hand moving from his back to his thigh. This time Justin did nothing but absorb the shudder that ran through his body, masking it with a sigh. Bryce's hand moved in small, circular motions, making its way slowly up Justin's leg, closer and closer to its mark.

"Bryce, can you just…" Justin started, clenching his jaw. Bryce hummed, but only moved closer. Justin wrenched himself away and pushed back against Bryce's chest.

"Come on, man! I'm not feeling it, okay." Justin rubbed his eyes, which were stinging slightly from the weed. He was also thinking about Jess. He couldn't do this to her… not again. Every time anything happened between he and Bryce, it haunted Justin for days, leaving him unable to satisfy his own girlfriend. She deserved better than that.

Bryce's eyes were kind, but underneath, they pulsed with desire and child-like self-assurance. He put a hand on Justin's arm.

"What's yours is mine, remember?" Bryce said quietly. There was that degrading fucking saying again. Justin swallowed hard, fighting the tremor growing in his chin. He nodded and ran a ratty sweater sleeve over his face. Bryce put his other hand on Justin's opposite arm and squeezed lightly. Justin had to admit it felt good to be touched. It felt so fucking good.

Bryce pushed him onto the bed as strongly as he could get away with, his eyes growing hungrier by the second. The arrogant smile came back as he started unbuckling his pants.

"Hey, hey. What're you doing?" Justin asked. Bryce made a shushing sound and got on the bed next to Justin.

"Don't act surprised, Foley. You want it." Bryce said. He sounded like a disappointed father, and that shut Justin up.

"Whatever." He whispered as Bryce finished unbuckling and pulled his jeans down a few inches. Justin shoved his thoughts in the back of his head and went to reach for Bryce's already-erect cock. The sooner it started, the sooner it would be over.

"Uh-uh. We're gonna try something different this time." Bryce said in a sickly-sweet voice, like he was addressing a volatile toddler.

"Fine." Justin said with a shrug. _How accommodating_ , he could practically hear Bryce thinking. Justin picked at the bedcovers, unable to find a loose string to fiddle with. Self-hatred was rising in his throat like bile. _Something different_. That was how this whole thing had started. But Justin couldn't back out now, not now that Bryce was the only one who wouldn't turn him down. He ground his teeth together and wished Bryce would just get on with it.

Bryce reached for Justin's jeans this time, making quick work of them before Justin could protest.

"Why're you-"

"Jesus. Relax, it's fine." Bryce said. He pushed Justin down into the mattress so that his face was on one of Bryce's pillows. The sudden smell of Bryce's cologne was overwhelming and Justin started pulling back. He chuckled uncomfortably.

"Hey, hey, Bryce. I'm-"

"Just chill, man." Bryce reassured, placing a warm hand on the back of Justin's neck, pressing his thumb into the hollow at the base of his skull. Justin couldn't keep in the sigh that escaped his lips. He could just imagine the self-satisfied smirk playing on Bryce's lips. It suddenly made him sick.

"Okay, I'm not kidding, get off." Justin said, pushing against Bryce. He just laughed. It was an okay-I'm-a-football-player-good-fucking-luck-fighting-me-off sort of laugh. It only made Justin angrier.

"Fuck you, man! What's wrong with you?" Justin protested. The hand on the back of his neck tightened. It was a clear reminder: _You owe me_.

"You wanna sleep out on the street when you get kicked out from now on?" Bryce asked, faking concern. His mouth was so close to Justin's ear that he felt the heat of the bigger boy's breath on the side of his face. Justin exhaled shakily.

"No." He admitted, quiet and ashamed.

"So do you want me to keep going?" Asked Bryce. Justin swallowed as best as he could and closed his eyes.

"Yeah." He choked.

"There we go." Was Bryce's condescending response. He knew Justin would eventually agree. He always did. Always would.

Justin could hear Bryce stroking himself and spitting into his palm. Goddammit, he should have taken another hit. Justin wasn't nearly drunk or high enough for this. He remembered how Jess had freaked out the first time they did anal. Was that what was happening? Was Bryce gonna fuck him? The dread hit him like a truck, but he'd known, deep down, that this was coming. All the little favours like giving Bryce head or a hand job in return for weed or a place to stay, they all lead up to this.

Bryce didn't bother with preparation, just slathered his dick with spit one more time and eased his way in, spreading Justin's cheeks with both hands. Justin was surprised by how much it hurt. He cried out, pressing his face farther into the pillow. Bryce let out a dry chuckle and thrust deeper. Justin screamed louder this time. This wasn't pleasure, this was pain. _Why the fuck do gay guys like this?_ Bryce started thrusting repeatedly, the pace increasing alongside his breathing. Justin felt himself harden, though he couldn't quite figure out why. As Bryce's thrusts grew deeper and more violent, Justin buried his face into the pillow, wishing it smelled like anything but Bryce.

"Oh, man… That's nice. Fuck… You're so fucking tight." Bryce panted. Justin felt like he was going to hurl. It sounded like a bad porno, Bryce heaving and huffing into Justin's ear, grunting out cliches like 'you're so tight'.

Justin felt like he was being split in half from behind. He bit his bottom lip to keep from crying out, but every thrust caused his teeth to snap together so hard they drew blood. He could taste it. It tasted like humilation and self-hatred. _What's yours is mine_. Justin almost wept. When the fuck had this become his life? Bryce's panting grew shallower and louder as he climaxed, one of his hands burying itself in Justin's hair, pulling his head back. Bryce's cock grew limp and left a trail of cum that cooled quickly in the air as soon as he removed himself from Justin's hole. Justin's ass was freezing and kept clenching and unclenching, adjusting to the sudden lack of an alien presence. Bryce let out a long sigh.

"God. That would probably have been more enjoyable if you weren't high out of your fucking mind." Bryce said, wiping himself off with a towel. Justin still couldn't move.

"Are you fucking serious?" Justin's voice cracked. He had found it miles from _enjoyable_.

"Yeah. Maybe lay off next time." Bryce said with a wink. _Next time._ Justin cleaned himself up and lay back on the pillows, his mind drifting as far as he could get it to. His erection had thankfully disappeared. "You okay?" Bryce asked.

Justin couldn't look at his so-called friend. He couldn't make his mouth form the lie. It just wasn't happening. He shook his head slowly and pulled his pants back up.

"I've heard it gets better the second time." Bryce said with a shrug. It was as if someone was scooping out Justin's insides, hollowing him out and leaving a cold, empty void. He stared at Bryce's ceiling, wishing it would collapse from the weight of all these expensive lamps and crush them both. How could he not tell? How could Bryce not tell that Justin had fucking hated it? Or did he know and just not give a shit? Justin sat up and tucked his knees up against his chest, ignoring the quick stab of pain in his backside. Bryce smiled at him and Justin wanted to punch him that smile off his fucking face. Justin wiped blood off his chin with his sleeve.

"You did good." Bryce said reassuringly, rubbing circles into Justin's back. _Fuck you_ , he thought, but damn it felt good to have someone touch him like that, just… kindly. Lately, Jess had been distant, angry, distracted or all of the above. Justin hated himself for accepting affection from anyone that was offering it, but his body was acting for itself. He found himself leaning into Bryce's hand, closing his eyes and enjoying the warmth spreading through his back. Bryce was saying something, but Justin had zoned out. He stared at his feet and rumpled Bryce's covers with his toes. Maybe he was still a little high.

Bryce eventually got up, leaving a distinct coldness on the places he had been touching just seconds earlier. He stood staring at Justin. He made an overexaggerated clicking noise with his tongue.

"So… you gonna go back to the pool house…?" Bryce asked, raising his eyebrows. Justin wasn't going to give him to pleasure of seeing him angry, surprised, disappointed, or hurt or any of the emotions that should have been coursing through his body. He expected this much. He knew who he was dealing with. He'd long stopped expecting better.

"Yeah." Justin got up and stalked out the door, feeling dirty and violated. How had everything gone so wrong? _Fuck Jessica. Fuck Zach. They should have answered their fucking phones,_ Justin thought angrily. He stomped down the stairs, wishing he could stomp hard enough to break some shit. He'd make it look like an accident, of course, he couldn't afford being labelled a 'trouble kid' at yet another friend's house. Every time something like this happened, he promised himself he'd never come back, that Bryce didn't really give a shit about him. But he always came back, because there was nowhere else to go.

Justin slammed the pool house door behind him and lay on the couch amidst a pile of blankets. He wished Jess was here. He wished they could hold each other and he could whisper in her ear and hear her laugh and then maybe everything would be okay. He sent her a few texts, but got no reply. Justin set up his bong again and took another hit. _Fuck Bryce_. He set the bong down and lay back, letting the high catch up to him.

He could still smell Bryce's cologne. It was in his hair. Justin went to the bathroom and turned the shower on, scalding hot. Bryce's pool house had one of those fancy showers with crazy water pressure. Justin let it burn his back and sting the sensitive skin on his scalp. He scrubbed himself over and over before giving up and sinking to the floor of the shower, letting the hot water pound away at his head and back. He was done. So fucking done. Justin punched the ceramic wall of the shower, just to feel the pain stab through his knuckles. He couldn't hold it in anymore. He cried. He cried that wet, angry, uncontrollable cry that only comes when your whole life has gone to shit. Justin pressed him palms into his eyes and then his temples, trying to relieve some of the pounding in his head. His whole body shook and not even the warmth and pressure of the shower could console him. He leaned his head against his knees and felt a wave of helplessness wash over him. Justin had nowhere else to go, no one else to turn to. Bryce was the only one left. He held all the cards. Justin was entirely at his mercy.

Except fuck that. Fuck Bryce and how he thought the whole world and everything in it belonged to him. _What's yours is mine._ Bullshit it was. Justin knew Bryce was wrong. He knew he should've done more that night when Jessica... No. Justin wouldn't be back. He'd given Bryce Walker enough. Justin didn't care if he had nowhere to stay and had to wander around town all night and nap during class. He'd do that before coming back here again. Bryce had pushed him too far and Justin finally wouldn't put up with it anymore. He didn't care that he was alone; that no one in the world gave a shit about him... On second thought, maybe it bothered him a little... Or a lot... Or it made him feel like he should just do the whole universe a favor and check out.

Justin turned off the water and wrapped himself in a towel. He pulled on his boxers and a T-shirt but lost energy for anything else and collapsed onto the couch. Justin wanted to fucking die. He wouldn't leave some fucked-up tapes about it, he'd just do it. Here one day, gone the next. Either with a gun, or some of his mom's pills. He wouldn't tell anyone, not even Jess. He'd tell her he loved her, nothing more. No one would remember him as being a great guy. Justin knew he was nothing but their token 'fucked-up' friend, the one they'd all hate if they didn't pity.

Hannah Baker's suicide had thrown the whole town into chaos. The death of Justin Foley wouldn't faze anyone at all.


	2. Chapter 2

Justin didn't feel so good. His palms were sweating like crazy. He could feel his shirt starting to stick to him. He tried to convince himself it was the heat, the dancing, the room full of people, but he knew better. It had been over seven hours since he'd last shot up. Justin hated himself for needing something this bad, for becoming everything he'd spent his whole life hating. He was an addict, a loser, a deadbeat.

He got himself a bottle of water at the bar and tried to control his breathing. Sweating, shaking, nervousness… Those were the first symptoms of withdrawal. Justin inwardly kicked himself for having relapsed after his detox. Why the fuck had he done that? Now his addiction was just as bad as it had been before, maybe even worse. At least he used to smoke it, not shoot it. Something about putting a needle in your arm seemed worse somehow.

Justin dabbed at his face with a handkerchief. Everyone could tell, couldn't they? It was like he had a fucking sign over his head that said "junkie". He swallowed down half the water much faster than he'd planned to. It didn't make any of the symptoms go away.

Just when he'd thought this night had been going badly enough, he spotted Bryce. Fuck. That was just perfect. He averted his eyes quickly, hoping that would avoid a conversation.

"You wanna real drink?" Bryce asked, taking a spot next to Justin against the bar. He was drinking from a flask monogrammed with his initials. Justin couldn't help but do a quick calculation in his head of how much heroin he could buy if he stole it and pawned it.

"Nah, thanks. I'm good." Justin said. His eyes flickered to all the possible routes of escape. Bryce was a rapist pig who had nothing left to offer him. What was he doing here?

Bryce held up his flask in a 'cheers' gesture, taking a swig. He looked at the dance floor wistfully, a stupid, punchable smile dancing on his lips. How dare he even show up here after everything he'd done?

"Brings back memories, huh?" Bryce said. Justin snorted.

"I heard you were transferring." He said, unable to keep the bite out of his voice. It was all he could do not to tell him to _fuck off_.

"Yeah. Yeah. Gonna start over." Bryce said, nodding and looking over at Justin. He had a strange look in his eyes that Justin couldn't quite place. Whatever it was, he didn't like it.

"Lucky you." Justin said. Of course _Bryce_ got to commit a felony and skate away as if nothing had ever happened. Sure, he had three months probation and lost his scholarships, but that was nothing compared to what he should have gotten. Hell, it was nothing compared to what _Justin_ got. He had six months probation and spent time in juvie. It was fucking ridiculous, but hardly surprising. And now Bryce would go off to some fancy school and people would forget about all the horrible shit he'd done and he'd go to college because his parents would pull some strings. The whole thing was gonna go away for him. If anything, Justin would suffer more than Bryce in this equation. Where was his fresh start, huh?

"I'm gonna miss this." Bryce said. He shifted closer to Justin. He caught the subtext and shuddered. _Fuck. You_.

"All of it." Bryce clarified, as if Justin had been too stupid to pick up on it the first time. Bryce took another swig of his flask. Justin could smell the booze on him already. He clenched his jaw.

"You remember freshman year? The night before our first day? You stayed over? We stayed up talking about how we were gonna be kings of this fucking school." Bryce said, the ends of his words slurring slightly.

Justin shook his head microscopically. Of course Bryce would bring up that night. They hadn't just _talked_. A lot more had happened that night, stuff that Justin would give anything to forget.

"Yeah, I remember." Justin said. He didn't finish that sentence. He didn't say _I remember you pushing my head between your legs, telling me to prove I was loyal_. He didn't say _I remember you convincing me to finish your bottle of whiskey and then_ touching _me, even when I said no_. Justin didn't say any of that, just bit his bottom lip until it hurt and hoped that Bryce would just leave.

"I'll always remember." Justin said. Bryce cracked a small smile. It made Justin's skin crawl.

"Me too, brother." Bryce said. He held out his flask towards Justin as an open invitation. Oh fuck it. Justin took it and took a long drink.

"There you go! That's the Justin Foley I know." Bryce said with a wink. Justin couldn't force himself to smile. The whiskey and the withdrawal together was making his head spin. His water was almost done, too. And _fuck_ he needed heroin. Like right fucking now.

"Hey, man, you okay?" Bryce asked, laying a hand on Justin's shoulder. He shrugged it off, trying to hide the disgust on his face.

"Yeah. Fine. I'm good." He said quickly, wiping sweat from his brow.

"You don't look fine, dude." Bryce said. Justin could see through his stupid, fake concern. He finished his water and mumbled something about needing some air.

Justin sat on the curb outside, squeezing his shaking hands between his knees.

"Keep your shit together." He ordered himself, his voice breaking. Just for _one night_ , could he just pretend to be a normal teenager at a dance? Was that so much to ask? He was starting to feel cold now, even though it was April and almost 80 degrees.

"Justin." He heard someone call. He squeezed his eyes shut and sighed, praying it wasn't Clay. He couldn't let Clay see him like this, not when he thought he was clean, not when his family agreed to adopt him. Justin couldn't wrap his head around that. It didn't make any sense. Who the fuck would actually _want_ him to live with them?

For once, Justin was almost relieved to see Bryce. Bryce handed him a new bottle of water.

"What do you need?" Bryce asked knowingly.

"Nothing from you." Justin retorted. Bryce clicked his tongue and nodded a little.

"Huh. I guess I deserve that." He said. Justin drank some of the water and snuck a few glances over at Bryce. He flushed red when their eyes met. Despite everything, there was still a part of Justin that craved his friend's approval, his love. It was something he never felt as strongly with Clay, though those feelings were certainly starting to develop against his wishes.

"Yeah, you do. Cause you're an ass-" Justin coughed, his head spinning. His hands were shaky and sweaty. He was a fucking mess. "-hole," he finished.

"I saw Jess kissing Standall." Bryce said, because of course he couldn't help rubbing salt in that wound.

"So?" Justin said, keeping his eyes glued to the ground so they'd stop watering. The last thing he wanted was to cry in front of Bryce.

"So, she's your girl, Justin. Go fight for her." Bryce said, clapping him on the back. His hand lingered a little too long and Justin felt a shudder run up his spine.

"Jesus, you got skinny." Bryce said. Justin cringed. Zach had said the same damn thing.

"Yeah. Heroin'll do that to you." Justin snapped. _Fuck off, Bryce_. He wished he had the courage to say it. Bryce's eyebrows shot up.

"Shit." Bryce breathed.

"Like you fucking care." Justin said. Bryce already knew it, too. Justin was sure of it. It had been all over the blog already. Cause Hannah being involved with a low-life junkie was noteworthy for some people, apparently.

"Listen, Justin. I'm sorry about what I said at school the other day." Bryce said. His voice was too soft to be genuine. He wanted something from Justin. Justin bit his bottom lip, willing it not to shake. He stood up and paced, keeping his gaze averted.

"Which part, huh?" He demanded, "Me being a white trash piece of shit? Or the part about no one giving a fuck about me?" Justin hated how his voice cracked. He made sure to turn away before wiping the tears from his face.

"I was wrong, okay. It was… I didn't mean it." Bryce said. He got up, too, slowly closing the distance between he and Justin. It was like he was approaching a wild animal.

"You weren't." Justin whispered.

"What?"

"Wrong. You weren't wrong." Justin said. He _was_ a white trash piece of shit. He'd been a homeless junkie for god's sake. And once the Jensen's found out he hadn't gotten clean, he'd be back to square one. He'd be either in rehab or back out on his ass. It was inevitable.

"Hey…" Bryce wrapped his meaty hand around Justin's bicep. Justin swallowed hard. Bryce didn't used to be able to wrap his whole hand around his arm like that. It made him feel even worse.

"Don't fucking touch me." Justin said, though the fight had drained from his voice. Now, it just felt nice to have someone's hands on him. He hated himself for it, but couldn't convince himself to pull away. The part of him that wanted to rip his arm from his former friend's grip was counteracted by the part of him who wanted Bryce to pull him into a hug and apologize for everything.

"Hey." Bryce repeated, firmer this time. He put both hands on Justin's biceps, squeezing lightly. His eyes were uncharacteristically soft. _Run away._ This meant nothing but trouble. He'd been down this fucking road before. It never led anywhere good.

"You're shaking, man." Bryce said. Justin swallowed hard.

"It's cold."

"It's 80 degrees." Bryce corrected. "Do you _need_ something?" Justin shook his head a little too insistently.

"I'm good."

"You're _not_ good. Let me help you. For old time's sake." Bryce said. He ran his hands from Justin's biceps down to his wrists, shoving up his shirtsleeve. The track marks weren't visible anymore. Justin had been careful about that. Bryce clicked his tongue.

"Drink this for now. Finish it up, I don't mind." Bryce said, handing Justin the flask. He didn't even think about it, just downed its contents. It was only after it went to his head that he regretted doing so.

"Uh... I don't - I don't put it in there." Justin stammered.

"Where do you put it?" Bryce asked. Justin felt his face flush red. He shrugged. Bryce's lips curled into a smirk.

"Not _there_ , you fucking perv." Justin said, tugging his sleeve back down.

"Sorry. I'm not a heroin expert." Bryce said, trying for a lighthearted joke. Justin's chest clenched in embarrassment.

"Fuck you. I can handle myself."

"Yeah, you've been doing great without me." Bryce said. Justin shoved him.

"Well none of my girlfriends have been _raped_ since I left!" Justin shouted. A few of the other stragglers outside turned to look at them. Most of them were on smoke breaks, clouds of tobacco or weed-scented smoke billowing towards them.

"Woah. Easy." Bryce said, raising his hands in mock surrender. "If we're gonna talk about that shit, we should do it somewhere more private."

"I'm not going to your fucking house, Bryce! You think I don't know what you're trying to do? I'm not a stupid kid anymore, okay? Fuck you!" Justin snapped. Bryce exhaled slowly, nodding to himself.

"Alright. Well, there's always the Clubhouse. No one'll be in there." Bryce suggested. It took almost all of Justin's self-control not to punch him in the face. He knew he couldn't win that fight.

"That arrangement we had? Forget it. I'm - I can't do it anymore." Justin said, his voice dangerously low. Bryce had to be on another level of crazy and narcissistic to think Justin would do him any favours after the stuff he'd said at the trials, and the pictures in the Clubhouse and everything with Jess…

"Let's talk about this somewhere else." Bryce hissed between clenched teeth. His fingers squeezed Justin's bicep until he grunted in pain. Justin nodded, resolving not to let Bryce see how much he was hurting him. He had _some_ pride left, after all.

The Clubhouse was mostly cleared out, now. It looked like what it was supposed to be, just an old storage room. Justin couldn't help but picture the girls from the Polaroids as he stared at the spot where the couch used to be. He didn't want to be here. They could 'talk' on the bleachers or something, somewhere open and that didn't make his skin crawl.

"Never mind. Let's go back outside." Justin said, trying to push past Bryce. He was unsteady on his feet, probably due to the booze. Bryce just laughed and popped open some folding chairs.

"You're in withdrawal, Justin." Bryce said. "Siddown." Justin hesitated by the door before taking a seat.

"Do you have it with you?" Bryce asked. Justin swallowed hard and shrugged. Bryce snorted a laugh. "I'll take that as a 'yes'."

"You would, wouldn't you?" Justin muttered, more to himself than anything else. He wasn't even sure Bryce heard him.

"You can shoot up here. I don't mind." Bryce said. _Of course you don't_. Justin cleared his throat, his eyes scanning frantically around the Clubhouse for an exit he could get to without having to pass Bryce. What a lovely situation he'd gotten himself into.

Justin had always hated using in front of other people. If it was just him, he could tell himself all the lies he needed to hear. He could tell himself it wasn't the same as when others did it, he had his own reasons. Sometimes he even imagined himself in a movie. He could convince himself this was the scene where he hit rock-bottom before something motivated him to clean up and go straight and everything would be okay.

With Bryce here, it was real. He wasn't the complicated protagonist of some hopeful against-all-odds story, he was just another screw-up who'd probably O.D before he was 25. His hands shook as he took out the small pouch with his works. He hadn't wanted to leave it in Clay's room. He usually took his duffel bag with him everywhere, so he rarely had to worry about that. But, obviously, he couldn't take his duffel to the dance. Justin had planned on leaving it in the car, but he'd been too scared that someone (namely, Clay) would find it.

"Can you… not watch?" Justin asked, humiliation creeping up his spine. Bryce shot him a knowing smirk.

"Whatever you want." Bryce said. Justin exhaled sharply and balled and unballed his fists, trying to work up the courage. He couldn't face detoxing again. Then the Jensens would know. They wouldn't want him around anymore, he was sure of it. Justin would just have to keep it a secret.

Justin expertly held his lighter underneath the foil, watching the small piece of black tar dissolve with the heat. He filled up the syringe through a piece of cotton. That part was important. If you got a piece of solid in your needle, you were dead. Occasionally, Bryce would check over his shoulder and get a weird, cryptic smile on his face. Justin would always make him turn back around.

Justin tried to tie the rubber band around his bicep, but his hands were shaking too much. It kept slipping between his sweaty fingers. He sighed in frustration. He balanced the syringe on his lap, trying to kept the sharp end sterile. Still, the band slipped out of his hand.

"Fuck!" Justin grunted. Bryce was making him nervous. That must've been it.

"Need help?" Bryce asked.

"No. Turn the fuck around." Justin ordered. He tried one more time. This time the band fell to the floor. Justin swore.

"God fucking dammit! Fuck!" He shouted, the corners of his eyes stinging. "Can't even do this right." Justin's breath came out ragged.

"What're friends for?" Bryce said, picking up the band and tying it around Justin's thin arm. He was even more acutely aware of how skinny he'd gotten when Bryce's densely muscled arms were there to dwarf his own.

"Don't." Justin protested. Bryce ignored him, taking the syringe from his trembling fingers.

"I've done this before. Don't worry about it." Bryce said, flicking the skin on the inside of Justin's elbow until the veins bulged.

"What? When?" Justin asked.

"Not on me, obviously." Bryce laughed. "Fucking Montgomery, man. You don't seriously think he's _naturally_ that good at baseball, do you?"

Justin nodded. For some reason, that made him feel fractionally better about himself. That he wasn't the only one with substance issues. Justin chose not to mention the fact that he was pretty sure Bryce doped, too. He all but admitted it once during the football season.

Bryce slid the needle into Justin's vein better than he did himself, most of the time. It helped that his fingers were steady as a surgeon's. Justin wondered if he was as drunk as he was pretending to be earlier. He pushed the thought out of his mind.

The sweet feeling of the drug in his bloodstream slid over Justin. It was like sinking into a warm bubble bath. It was the perfect combination of bliss and comfort and emptiness. He only briefly thought about the fact that he should have injected somewhere other than his elbow. It looked like he'd be wearing long sleeves for a while.

Justin slid to the ground, choosing to lay there and look at the unfinished ceiling of the Clubhouse. He felt like he was floating. The stress and anger and self-hatred was slowly being chased out of his body by the beautiful guardian of his soul named Heroin. Justin let out a satisfied sigh.

"Woah, man. You're the real deal." Bryce said. His voice echoed in Justin's ears. He closed his eyes so he couldn't see Bryce's annoying, amused smirk. Justin just hummed, content. His skin was tingling warmly. He fumbled for his water, his fingers feeling weirdly heavy and slow. Justin gave up on the water and just let the rush take him over.

Justin was only dimly aware of Bryce's hands on his body. Those same thick, steady hands now wandered to his neck and down his torso. Bryce hooked his arm under Justin's back, sitting behind him and letting him lean against his solid frame. Justin groaned in displeasure, but didn't fight him off.

"In case you throw up." Bryce said. Justin would have told him off, but he remembered Alex Standall flipping him over when he overdosed. He'd been so close to dying… His mind treacherously wondered if it would have been better if he had.

"'M good." Justin breathed. His voice sounded far away, alien. Good God, he'd taken a lot. More than he'd originally meant to.

"You're breathing's so slow. It's fucking scary, man." He heard Bryce say. It was weird having him here, but the warmth of Bryce's body against his back felt nice.

"Heart's slower." Justin mumbled, laughing quietly to himself. Bryce put a hesitant hand on Justin's chest, feeling for his heartbeat.

"I can't feel it." Bryce said. Justin hummed. "I want to, though." Bryce started to unbutton Justin's dress shirt, slipping the tie off Justin's head. Justin jerked in protest, but Bryce mumbled about how it was fine and he just wanted to feel his heartbeat. Justin supposed it _was_ pretty cool how slow it was, but even with the heroin still fucking with his brain, he knew there was more to it than that.

Bryce slid Justin's shirt off his thin shoulders and down his arms, throwing it to the side. He put his hand beneath Justin's undershirt, directly over his heart.

"Oh, shit, you're right." Bryce said, huffing through his nose. "That's crazy."

Justin nodded in agreement and glanced around for his shirt. He couldn't see it. Justin sat up, turning around to try and find it. He made the mistake of looking up and into Bryce's eyes. There was a hunger there, that look that Justin had seen far too many times before.

"No." Justin said, "I told you... Agreement's over." Justin had Clay now, he didn't need the Walker's charity anymore. He didn't owe Bryce anything. Soon he'd even have a _home_. He'd never need to wander from couch to couch, afraid to be beat up by one of his mom's asshole boyfriends.

"We used to have so much fun together, Justin." Bryce said, "don't you remember?" Bryce reached out to lay a hand on the back of Justin's neck. He didn't seem to mind how sweaty he still was. Justin's mouth dropped open slightly. He wanted to tell him how it had only been fun for Bryce, how he'd wanted to die some of those nights. All he'd wanted was a place to stay, or some new stuff he couldn't afford. The sexual favours had been a means of payment, nothing more.

"Fuck you." Justin said. It sounded weak, even to his own ears. The heroin was making his mind slow, like weed but way more intense.

Bryce's stare was intense, like a lion looking at a baby gazelle. Justin supposed Bryce had always preferred him at his most broken, most _needing_. He got off on it.

"What'll Clay do once he finds out what you did?" Bryce said. The fake concern in Bryce's voice made Justin's stomach turn. Justin felt himself pale. His skin was suddenly unbearably itchy. He scratched at his forearms and then at his neck, his fingers accidentally brushing up against Bryce's.

 _He wouldn't_. Justin swallowed hard, but knew it was bullshit. Of course Bryce would. Bryce would use anything and everything he could to prove he was still in charge here, that Justin was still _his_ to do with as he pleased.

Bryce's hand suddenly tightened on Justin's neck, the other one rotating his torso so he was face down on the dirty cement floor.

"No. No! Not here!" Justin said, his hazy brain catching up to what was going on. He could feel grains of dirt on his cheek, taste it in his mouth.

"Shh. Just like old times, huh? Just like old times…" Bryce whispered in Justin's ear, kissing his neck from behind. Justin jerked back, the back of his head colliding with Bryce's nose. Bryce grunted and then laughed. He shifted his hand to the back of Justin's head in a quick, smooth motion, slamming his head into the ground. Justin cried out as his forehead exploded in pain. He felt wetness under his face. The skin must've split.

"Bryce! I'm not kidding." Justin protested. He rubbed his forearm into the dirt ground to itch it. Somehow not being able to reach that felt worse than having Bryce on top of him.

"You thought our agreement could just _stop_?" Bryce spat, "that you don't still owe me?"

"Bryce!" Justin shouted, squirming under his former friend's weight.

"I mean, Monty's blowjobs are shit, but at least he's loyal." Bryce spat into Justin's ear. "I missed you when you were gone."

"Fuck you, man! Fuck you! Fuck off!" Justin shouted, his voice muffled by the floor. He spat out the dirt and immediately regretted it because now the dirt stuck to the spit on his face and made it even worse.

Bryce's breath was hot and heavy against his ear. Justin knew that the more he struggled, the more Bryce got off on it. He loved the feeling of control.

"Do you want me to tell Clay about how you were shaking and itching yourself like the fucking junkie piece of shit you are? What do you think he'd do after that? He'd kick you to the curb, too, wouldn't he? Just like everyone else." Bryce ran his fingers through Justin's hair, the movement far to gentle for the poisonous words coming out of his mouth.

"I hate you! I fucking hate you!" Justin sobbed.

 _No one in this world gives a shit about you. You have nothing, and nobody_. Bryce's words echoed in his head. How could he have forgotten about how horrible Bryce was, even for a second? How could he have been so stupid to get himself into this situation? He'd gone to juvie because of the guy, he'd cried himself to sleep on numerous occasions because of him, he'd even thought of putting a bullet in his brain because of that asshole. Justin was an idiot for forgetting that for even a minute.

"I was surprised you didn't turn me in," Bryce said, his breath hitching. Justin heard the sound of pants unbuckling and felt his own being removed. He was too high to do much about it and Bryce's hand on his neck kept him from fighting. He knew it would happen one way or another, he might as well just try to make it easier on himself at this point.

"You're a fucking psychopath." Justin choked.

"I was always there for you, Justin. All I want is a little gratitude." Bryce said. He was stroking himself now, although he was already rock-hard. There was something about the shininess in Justin's eyes, the pathetic defeat in his jaw, the slump of his shoulders since he got back that just made Bryce want to fuck him. Vulnerability was sexy. He read that in a book somewhere.

Justin made one last attempt to throw Bryce off him, jerking sideways and grabbing the hand on his neck, trying to shake Bryce off. Bryce let out a short laugh and gripped both of Justin's wrists behind his back, pinning him down with one hand. The other was still busy with his dick, no doubt rubbing spit on it. Justin used to be stronger than this. He could have at least put up a good fight before the drugs stole all his strength and body mass.

"You used to like this," Bryce murmured, "what happened to you?" _I stopped telling you what you wanted to hear, dumbass._

Bryce inserted a few wet fingers into Justin's hole, opening him up. Bryce's dick grew heavier as Justin's breath hitched. Bryce made a scissoring motion with his two fingers before adding in another. Justin could only imagine the stupid fucking smile on Bryce's face when he let out a small grunt of pain.

Bryce pushed himself in slowly, Justin's tight ass squeezing slightly in response. Bryce let out a ragged huff of enjoyment.

"Oh God, I missed you." He breathed in Justin's ear. One of Bryce's hands gravitated towards Justin's dick, the other clamped tightly around Justin's forearm, forcing him into an awkward half-kneeling position. Bryce's hand started to move simultaneously with his hips, each new stab of pain accompanied with a stroke of pleasure. Justin's mouth fell open, his breath growing faster.

Justin's hole throbbed. Bryce's rhythm increased, his body making a disgusting slapping sound as he thrust himself further and further into his former best friend's body. Justin cried out in agony, but also in ecstasy. The hand on his dick moved expertly and, despite his best efforts, Justin's body was responding to the touch. As much as he felt violated and disgusted it felt… good. Somehow that made it even worse.

"See, you like this. You _want_ this." Bryce breathed into his ear. Justin didn't respond. His eyes fluttered closed when Bryce's hand squeezed his dick a little, pre-sum oozing from his tip. Justin's breath was rough with pleasure, but he also tasted salt. Was he crying? What the fuck?

"Say it to me, baby." Bryce urged, his voice shaking. He grunted, pushing his dick into Justin's hole with increasing intensity. He felt the inexperienced muscles flutter around his cock and his breath hitched. Justin said nothing. Bryce huffed in frustration and made his next thrust unnecessarily violent. Justin yelped in sudden pain.

Bryce removed his hand from Justin's dick and moved it to the boy's other arm, pinning him down completely.

"Bryce…" Justin begged, his dick throbbing. "I'm so close, please…" Justin's voice broke. His cock was so heavy it was starting to hurt. He just needed that friction back. He needed it so bad. He fought against Bryce's hold, even though it accomplished nothing.

"Tell me how much you want me." Bryce said. Justin shuddered as the hot breath made the skin on the back of his neck stand up.

"I… I want you." Justin's voice broke into a sob. He just needed that touch back so bad… But this was _Bryce_. Justin wanted to puke simply from self-hatred and disgust. No, he didn't want Bryce. Justin hated Bryce. He'd never wanted Bryce to touch him like this, but - but he needed it _so bad_. His dick throbbed and leaked precum onto the filthy floor of the Clubhouse.

"Please." A rough voice begged. It took Justin a second to realize it was his.

"Well, if you insist." Bryce growled, his breath short. He was pretty close to coming as well. He slid his hand back on Justin's dick, revelling in how rough his breathing had become.

Justin could pretend it was someone else's hand if he closed his eyes. He pictured Jess, her soft brown eyes staring up at him, her hand wrapped around… No, the hand was too big, too unmistakably male. He thought of Clay. _Wait, what the fuck?_ Justin imagined Clay's awkward, tight-lipped smile, a snarky comment about how he most certainly _wasn't_ uptight, and then his hand wrapping around the base of Justin's cock. Clay would lick his lips, furrow his brow in that _totally not attractive way,_ and ask if he was doing okay… _Oh god…_

Bryce let out an animalistic grunt, bucking his hips into Justin's ass.

"Oh, fuck, fuck… You're so fucking tight." Bryce said. Justin bit into his hand against the last bit of pain. Bryce thrust one last time, cum bursting from the tip of his dick. He wanted to fill Justin up, see his cum drip from his raw, red hole. Bryce wanted to see Justin's face change from fucked-out ecstacy to horrified realization.

Justin's eyes were squeezed shut as Bryce pulled out with a sickening squelch. He felt the sudden coolness of the air on his exposed hole and shuddered. Somehow, it just added to the mounting euphoria as Bryce's hand slid down Justin's shaft, using just the right amount of pressure to make his eyes roll back in his head, his hips bucking.

"Oh, shit…" Justin heaved. "I'm- I'm…" Bryce gave one last jerk and that was Justin's undoing. He let out a muffled, porn-worthy groan and collapsed onto his stomach, letting the wave of pleasure wash over him.

The pleasure was gone as soon as it had appeared. Justin sat up suddenly, his eyes glued to the dirty floor. His ass throbbed. Justin didn't even bother to clean himself up. He pulled up his boxers, his eyes stinging with tears. _No, no, no, what the fuck._ The cum made his boxers stick to his ass and his dick. He immediately regretted ignoring the clean-up.

"Told you it'd be just like old times," Bryce breathed. The image of a fucked-out Justin begging for him like a whore replayed in his head, almost making his dick hard all over again.

Justin stayed on the floor. His eyes were wide and blank. Holy shit, he'd thought of _Clay_. What the fuck was that? He put his head in his hands, self-disgust rising like bile in his throat. He caught sight of the track marks on his arm and his breath caught. He was so fucked.

The realization hit him all at once. He'd let Bryce fuck him _again_. No matter how many times he convinced himself he'd never let it happen again, he'd given in embarrassingly easily. Justin was a fucking hypocrite. He talked so much shit about Bryce, but he'd _begged_ for him. Holy shit, he'd begged for Bryce to jerk him off. What the fuck was wrong with him?

Justin sobbed. He didn't even care that Bryce was still there, using a towel to wipe Justin's cum from his hand. He didn't even care that Bryce probably had a self-satisfied smirk on his face, happy to have proved Justin wrong, to have broken down the resolve he'd thought was so strong. Bryce liked Justin most when he was broken. This was probably turning him on more than the actual encounter. Justin was so disgusted with himself that he just cried harder, his bony shoulders shaking.

Bryce wrapped his arms around Justin.

"Being bi is okay nowadays. It's fine." Bryce said, as if that was the fucking problem.

"Don't fucking touch me!" Justin shouted. Nevertheless, he leaned into Bryce's chest, letting him run his hand through his hair. He was too touch-starved not to admit it felt good.

Once again, Justin's life was falling apart. He couldn't hide his addiction forever. It was only a matter of time before Clay and his parents found out. Then he'd be back to being homeless, wandering the streets trying not to make eye contact with anyone. He couldn't handle the pity, the humiliation. Justin didn't want to go back to giving hand jobs for heroin. Even the indignity of coming to Bryce for help was better than that. He would end up like those tweaked-out homeless bums who toasted their brains with drugs. He'd be everything he'd been scared to turn into since he realized his mom was a junkie. Everything he did seemed to steer him closer and closer to that fate.

Justin just wanted to forget. Blinking away the tears in his eyes, he pulled away from Bryce and retrieved his lighter, syringe, and bag of heroin. Bryce reached behind him and passed him the foil and rubber band. Justin was shaking too much to do it himself.

"Shhh. I got you." Bryce said. The sickly sweetness in his voice made Justin want to puke, but he lay his head back on Bryce's shoulder, letting him tie the band around his bicep. Justin dissolved the heroin himself and filled the syringe, not trusting Bryce to do it properly. But he handed it back to him, with the same unspoken and precarious trust they'd had since the third grade. Whatever shit Justin got himself into and no matter how horrible Bryce could be, he could still count on his help. Even though there were strings attached, it was better than being completely alone.

"I'm so fucked up." Justin whispered. He closed his eyes as the needle pierced his skin and let him mouth fall open as the rush hit him.

And for a minute, everything was quiet and peaceful. There was no Hannah Baker, no Jessica Davis, no Clay Jensen, no Bryce Walker… It was just Justin and the sweet sensation of floating and someone's fingers in his hair. And just for a minute, everything seemed okay.

Justin woke up cold, alone, and in the dark. His boxers were stiff, his pants half-on, and his asshole was raw. Justin's fingers came back bloody when he touched his forehead. Bryce's black and blue finger marks had begun to appear on Justin's arms and neck. He had to fumble around to find his shirt and tie. His fingers bumped against a syringe and a burnt-up piece of foil. His arm looked like hell. The puncture sites were swollen and starting to bruise. Justin's chin started to wobble as he realized how much of a fucking mess he was. He'd been out of his mind to think the Jensens actually wanted him. Justin was damaged goods. He was past saving.

Bryce Walker had been right about him. No one in the world _should_ give a shit about him. Justin Foley deserved to have nothing and nobody.


End file.
